


is this a proposal?

by surmelody



Category: Ocean's 8 (2018)
Genre: F/F, and falling in love in the process, at some point there's only one bed, except somethings are different, girls united to destroy claude becker, the proposal!au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-06 20:06:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17351744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/surmelody/pseuds/surmelody
Summary: Lou Miller is the most powerful australian woman in NYC. As a famous producer, she is responsible for building careers - and also destroying them, for that matter. Debbie Ocean is her paid shadow, better known as her assistent. When Lou is forced to leave the country for good, she holds on into her last bit of hope: Debbie. That and their sudden false engagement.





	is this a proposal?

Debbie Ocean was a responsible, dedicated woman.

She was never late; she always had everything planned weeks in advance, never forgot a birthday in her life and always managed to take care of everyone around her like it was no big deal, like she never got tired of keeping everything together. That wasn’t news to anyone, her whole life she had been exactly like that. Her brother used to force her to make his homework - which she did, glady, just because she couldn’t bear the thought of having her family name being dragged because of Daniel’s stupidity. She was responsible for his good grades and, of course, her own As.

She was basically always right, according to herself. Almost perfect in every way.

But almost was never enough, not to her, and especially not today - the first day in many, many years she’d a hangover. One aspirin later, pushed into her stomach with the help of two sips of water, the headache wasn’t threatening to kill her no more. The pain she could deal with. It would all be fine except she was late, and _that_ was like a million hangovers all in once.

It was 9AM and, also for the first time in a long time (maybe for the first time ever) she was late to work.

Between combing her messy, bed-hair and looking for her left shoe, she repeated to herself for the third time in the last 5 minutes, like a mantra she desperately needed to not freak out at any given second: Deborah Ocean _is_ a responsible, dedicated woman.

Maybe not right now, but as in general, she knew she was.

Debbie just hoped her boss would feel the same way.

God, she would definitely kill Leslie for that fourth extra drink last night.

Running through the door, she looked at her watch again: 9:14AM. It wasn’t that bad. She managed to get a good outfit despite her lack of time to properly choose between high-waisted jeans and a long skirt. Fourteen minutes was all she had to build a clean appearance but also look sophisticated at the same time - which her boss definitely appreciated, causing all her employees to have a mental breakdown at 6AM while deciding what they should wear that would say “look at me, I look awesome and I definitely didn’t spend the last 3 hours coming up with this outfit just to please Lou Miller”.

Debbie sighed. This was her life: all she did was properly calculated to please Lou Miller, her boss. You would be dumb not to try to please her - that woman was built like a greek sculpture, long legs, sharp jawline and everything. She was intimidating even when she wasn’t trying to be (and she did try, a lot). Debbie and the other girls at work used to make bets on how many personalized suits she owned, everyday a new one in a different color in display, until they found out Gucci actually made exclusive outfits for her - just because. They stopped after that. It was too pity to keep betting on Lou Miller’s life when her life was extraordinary and all of them girls would have to come back to their miserable, lonely bedrooms with nothing but cheap clothes and lost dreams.

It was a little bit dramatic, Debbie knew, but after years working as an assistant for the most powerful woman in New York, she knew better than to keep her hopes up. She loved her work, she did. Wasn’t how she saw herself in her 30s when she was a little girl, but little Debbie knew nothing about life and this… this was alright. Besides, she was aware people would kill to be in her shoes. She was, after all, Lou Miller’s shadow. And Lou Miller, in a Gucci suit or not, was a huge deal.

Debbie looked at her watch again, her everyday walk apparently longer than ever. 9:28. One quick stop at the coffee shop and she would be there before 10.

She just hoped Lou’s daily routine didn’t finish earlier that day.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Across the city, away from the noisy cars and the sound of busy people and angry drivers, Lou Miller finished her eyeliner with no rush. Headphones in her ears, she tried not to make a face to the horrible song playing in her head - the music was awful but her make up didn’t have to be. Three hours ago she woke up before her alarm even had the chance to go off, easy as that, and began her daily routine: yoga, meditation, long hot shower, skin care products, milk in a bowl and cereal right after, checking emails on her phone, doing her makeup and, while at it, listening to thousands of demos that were sent to her only the night before.

None of them sounded like something worthy to put her money on (or her hearing, for that matter) but her eyeliner did look awesome.

Suited up, she left her giant apartment just like she did every morning: pretty and alone. A windy NYC met her, forcing her bangs to be all over the place, which she did nothing to avoid. Right now she was only looking for a long day at work and, most importantly, a nice cup of dark coffee.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

“Can I get a dark coffee to go? A strong one, please. Oh, and also a donut. I’m starving.”

Debbie Ocean left the coffee shop in fast steps, trying not to spill anything and, at the same time, trying to eat as quick as possible. The cup on her left hand remained unopened, but her donut was long gone after only 3 bites. She hoped she still looked presentable, the last thing she needed was her white shirt to look like a used napkin.

Moments later and things came back to normal: she was at the office, the coffee was safe and apparently no one put fire on anything while she was away. It was like she’d never been late at all. Things were looking pretty smooth for a monday morning, and her co-workers relaxed faces and easy smiles let her know that obviously her boss wasn’t around yet. Good for her.

The office wasn’t at all like you’d imagine an office to be. There were paintings all over the walls, vinyl records hanging right beside them. Gold records, platinum records, rock stars, pop stars, old faces and new ones in the music industry - all of them in display there, at the giant black walls, with one thing in comum: all of them were produced by Lou Miller, the gold digger with a magic ear in music industry.

Debbie threw her bag in her desk, still messy from the week before when she had all those crazy contractual deadlines to check before sending them to Lou’s approval. Her phone beeped twice, and even before she dared to look at the screen, she knew it was a message from the guy downstairs saying “ _she’s on her way_ ”. Mike (or was it Mark?) had a crush on her since day one, and even though Debbie had no intention of giving him the slightest of chances, she was still grateful for the warnings every morning. _No more dating people who work with you_ , she thought to herself, happy to notice she was indeed following that rule.

The elevator opened with a funny noise when Debbie was midway to Lou’s private office. Once she realized it was useless to pretend she’d been there for hours, since Lou’s coffee was still on her hand and not on her desk where it was supposed to be, she turned around to meet her boss in a fast, rushed walk.

Everyone around them turned silent, and Debbie forced herself not to roll her eyes. It was like that every morning, like that scene from The Devil Wears Prada, when Miranda arrives in the building and everyone goes insane trying to make everything perfect but acting like robots in the process. Everyday Debbie was surprised with Lou’s oblivious personality, never seeming to notice that no, her employees weren’t always so focused on their work like that.

“Good morning, boss.” Debbie said, faking a smile on her face.

“You’re late.”

 _Goddammit_. Debbie knew better than to ask how the hell Lou knew about that. This building was full of morons trying to make it to the top by pleasing the boss with new gossip about the ones that worked with her.

“Well…” she said, handing the coffee cup to Lou, who grabbed it without looking, eyes still on her phone. “At least your coffee is still hot.”

“Nice excuse, Deborah, but next time I’d much rather a cold coffee if it means you’re here when you’re supposed to be here.”

“Got it, chief. It’s not happening again.”

Both of them made their way to Lou’s office and, as Debbie closed the door behind them, she could feel the scared, pity eyes the crew outside gave her. She ignored, shutting the door close with one harsh move.

“Bad day?” Lou asked, already seated on her desk, phone finally away and, for the first time that morning, looking directly at Debbie.

“Something like that, yes.”

“Well, it’s about to get worse.”

“Oh, that makes me so much better, thank you.”

Debbie made her way to the chair on the other side of the table, Lou’s hand indicating in a smooth movement for her to sit so they could discuss the day ahead of them. People wondered how the hell they managed to make that professional relationship work, and if Debbie had to bet, she’d say it was probably her ability not to bow down to Lou as everyone else did and Lou’s enjoyment to finally speak to someone that treated her like a equal, not the supreme, oh-so-untouchable figure everybody thought she was.

“So”, Debbie started, her phone in hand, the virtual planner litting up with yellow highliners, reminders in green and meetings in red. “You have a meeting at 2 with that agent from last week, probably wanting to discuss the pop princess he hired months ago. You also have a interview with Rolling Stones at 4 and, if you make it in time, drinks with Paul Hughes at 6:30.”

“Who the hell is Paul Hughes?”

“Chief-Director of Columbia Records?”

“Oh.” Lou made a face, her nose moving in disgust. “Cancel that.”

“Congratulations, you just won a free night!”

“Aren’t I a lucky girl?” She smiled, more to herself than anything, and Debbie could not stop herself from staring. Lou didn’t smile very often, so when she did, it was eventful. “A free night I’ll spend with lots of demos I still have to go through. Times like this I wish I was deaf.”

“And lose all the money you made til this day? No way. I have bills to pay, thank you very much.” Debbie said, their banter dynamic coming back to normal. Lou looked at her with an amused, daring look. “Speaking of which, have you, by any chance, listened to that demo I sent you yet?”

“Yes, I have” Lou paused to grab a pen before carrying on. “It was good, but not impressive.”

 _Good, but not impressive_ , Debbie tried to save her words in her memory so she could give a proper feedback to Leslie later.

“I know it’s a rough demo but if we could just work with her for a little while, soften her edges a little bit, I really do think-”

“Deborah.” Lou said, her tone a good reminder of why people outside that room were scared she would eat them alive. “I made my career trusting my gut. I listening to that demo and my gut remained unbothered. But if I wanted your opinion for professional issues, you’d be my partner, not my assistant.”

 _Aaaand there she is_ , Debbie thought.

“Noted. Anything else I can help you with before heading back to my desk?”

Lou drowned the rest of her coffee before responding. Not one single bit of her seemed sorry.

“Yes. We have a meeting with my immigration lawyer in 40 minutes. Put that in your colorful system and call me when he’s here.”

“ _We_ have a meeting?” Debbie asked, typing fast on her phone.

“Yes. I need you to make notes, I rarely understand what he’s saying. Lawyers make me wanna stab myself in the eye.”

“So I should make notes and prevent you from stabbing yourself in the eye?”

“That’s pretty much it.”

“See you in a bit, then.” Debbie made her way out of the office, only to hear Lou’s voice saying over her shoulder:

“Oh, and that coffee was horrible. Bring me a latte next time.”

Debbie closed her eyes before leaving the room, counting to three so she wouldn’t head back in there to punch her own boss in the face. Instead, she left as if it was nothing, the smile on her face dying as soon as she closed the door.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“I just don’t get it,” Debbie murmured to her phone, keeping her voice down. “We seem to get along sometimes but then she turns into a snake with two heads in a short space of time. Is it bipolarity?”

“ _I’m afraid a snake with two heads has nothing to do with mental illness, so I don’t think so_.” The voice on the phone sounded amused, but caring.

“Ugh, she just… gets on my nerves, man. The worst part of it all is that I know she can be nice, she is nice sometimes, but then she chooses not to be anymore. It’s like she can’t bother being a decent human being for a whole day.”

“ _Maybe she had a tough childhood_.”

“Oh, please, her parents were crazy rich, rich kids know nothing about a tough childhood.”

Tammy made a sound on the other side of the line, but said nothing. Debbie knew her enough to know she wanted to make a comment but dared not to.

“Anyway”, Debbie continued, “I have to go. The snake has a meeting with a lawyer and I have to be there.”

_“Sounds boring. I’ll see you this weekend?”_

“At my dad’s house? I’ll be the one looking like she would rather be dead then to be there.”

_“Wouldn’t miss it for the world. Good luck with the Medusa!”_

“Snake with two heads. But that works, too. Love ya.”

_“Love you.”_

  


* * *

 

 

The lawyer was exactly what Debbie pictured a immigration lawyer would be: bald, chubby and with the smell of cigarettes stuck in his clothes. Walked funny, talked funny, and she had to remind herself not to laugh at his face because he was just too cartoonish to be real.

“Please, follow me” she said after he arrived and presented himself, making her way to Lou’s office. She knocked twice, as usual, and opened the door before her boss could even finish saying “come in”.

Lou was on her feet, her ankle boots making her slim figure look even taller than she already was. Today’s suit was baby blue with matching pants, her blond, short, straight hair fighting against the fancy vibe she was trying to sell. Debbie didn’t have to look at the man behind her to know he looked mesmerized by the tall woman, as usual. People used to have that same reaction every time, even if they already knew her. Debbie found herself in that same situation many, many times through the years.

“Mr. Paine, make yourself comfortable. What do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

The lawyer sat down, cleaning his throat, trying to act cool.

Debbie would be amused if the air in the room wasn’t so tense. She asked herself again why did she have to be there when lots of work was waiting for her in her desk. Lou seemed to read her mind, cause their eyes met for a few seconds and the blonde’s arched her eyebrows, silently asking why she looked so weird standing there, by herself.

The brunette came closer to the desk, and, before anyone could even begin to say anything, the door opened again with a loud bang.

Claude Becker entered the room without excusing himself. He didn’t actually have to - the building and the whole company was his, after all. Becker Entertainment was passed to Claude Becker years ago, when his father died of a sudden heart attack. He had no intentions of being a CEO, Debbie knew that much, but after realizing how much money he would make if he could just keep the business alive, he changed his mind.

He was also Debbie’s ex boyfriend, which made that whole situation very, very weird.

Becker got in without explanation, even though Lou’s eyes burned at him, screaming in question even if her mouth remained closed. Lou Miller was the boss, yes, but everyone knew that above her there were only two things: God and Claude Becker. Maybe it was because his father was more of a father to Lou than to himself, supporting her through her whole career and personal life and teaching her everything she knows; maybe it was because Lou couldn’t stand an annoying dick having more power than she did, maybe it was because of the arrogant air he brought with him; whatever it was, they hated each other loudly.

But no one, no one, hated Claude Becker more than Debbie Ocean did.

She found a self control she didn’t know she had when Claude noticed her presence and blinked at her, that annoying smile on his lips. Lou seemed to notice, and her voice cut through their interaction before Debbie could give him the middle finger.

“The fuck are you doing here, Becker? Got tired of snorting cocaine in your dad’s old office?”

“Oh, you did more in that office with my dad than snorting cocaine, I’ll tell you that much.” Claude answered, giving zero shits, sitting in the remaining chair with open legs and crossed arms, as if that wasn’t a business meeting.

“Get out of my office, you prick.” Lou said louder, her annoyance forcing her australian accent to get thicker.

“Relax, you freak, I was the one who asked for this meeting. I only used him-” he said, pointing at Mr. Paine, who looked scared as a little bird with apologetic eyes “- to get to you cause I knew you’d never agree with meeting me.”

“Well, finally you’re right at something.”

“ _Ahem_.” The lawyer made a noise with his throat again, this time as a way to shut up the other two. “Miss Miller, I’m afraid this is a serious meeting with something of your concern. Hm, you see-”

“Is she going to stay here?” Claude interrupted, pointed at Debbie. Her presence was being ignored until now and she hated him even more for having the guts to put her in the spotlight. “This is private business.”

“Yes.” Lou replied right away, her voice dry. “She stays. Whatever you have to say to me she’ll know either way.”

Claude stared at Debbie for longer than necessary, and she managed to look right back at him. Her eyes shot him in disdain, and somehow he still looked amused by that.

“As I was saying…” Mr. Paine continued, adjusting his tiny glasses to his round face. “Last night I was on the phone with the immigration people, they seemed very desperate to contact me or any other lawyer of this company to speak on your behalf.” Lou didn’t even blink, still mad enough with Claude to be able to absorb her lawyer’s words properly. “The thing is-”

“You’re being deported.” Claude finished for him, laughing as if he had told an awesome joke. To be fair, it did sound like a stupid joke. Debbie snorted before she could stop herself.

Lou didn’t seem to notice.

“Shut your disgusting mouth, you piece of crap. Mr. Paine, please tell me whatever it is and let’s get this over with, shall we? I have a lunch meeting in 15 minutes.”

“I’m afraid this is it, Ms. Miller. The immigration people wanted to let you and all of us know that your visa was declined. That means you can’t stay in the US anymore. Or work for an american company. In other words… as Mr. Becker just bluntly said… you are, in fact, being deported.”

Debbie’s jaw dropped to her feet and she could swear the floor had opened beneath her.

Lou remained static. Debbie fought the urge to come to her - it didn’t look like she was blinking or breathing.

Lots of seconds had passed when she found her voice again, Debbie’s mouth still open.

“How did that happen?” Lou asked, her voice weaker than never before, but her face impassive. It was like she was trying to hide every bit of emotion that hit her minutes ago. “I applied for that visa years ago, I was in the process, I-”

“Remember our last meeting, months ago, when I told you not to go to England for that music event? Was it at the BBC? Shame. Either way, I wasn’t just being a jerk. I knew you couldn’t leave the country til your visa things were solved and, obviously, you’d get in trouble if you did leave. You also knew that. It’d be a shame if you had done exactly the opposite of what I suggested, wouldn’t it?” Claude’s voice was smooth, but everyone in the room could sense every bit of satisfaction he had while saying every word. “Well, princess, your stubborn, egocentric personality just got you deported. And there’s no one to blame but yourself.”

No one dared to speak. Debbie slowly looked at the door, trying to make sure it was properly closed so no one out there could hear any of this. Lou could be terrible sometimes but Debbie’s job was to keep her life (and image) intact. She suddenly felt guilty. She never saw that happening, and maybe if she was better at her job, this would actually not be happening at all. Debbie also knew about the visa, but no one could stop Lou Miller from doing whatever she wanted to do. Even if she threw herself in front of the airplane, Lou would just roll her eyes and ask them to fly right away with Deb still was stuck in the left wing. But, most importantly, Debbie never saw that coming because she was Lou Miller, and she was sure the american government would not throw _Lou Miller_ out of here.  

Clearly, she thought wrong.

“I know it’s a lot to take in,” Mr. Paine said softly, in an obvious attempt to make up for the way Claude delivered the news “but I’ll gladly help you with anything you want. Legal stuff, information, signing papers, you got it. But I’m afraid you’ll have to leave this job til the end of the week. That’s all the time they’re willing to give you.”

“Well, that’s _impossible_ , sir, because it’s April and do you know how many singles come out in April? A LOT, I’ll tell you that! I mean-” Lou laughed, even though nothing was funny. Debbie instantly knew she was so nervous she could cry, but the laugh made a good job into trying to convince both man otherwise. “Who would even take my place? There’s no one in this company doing what I do. And without me, you lose all your best contracts. And next thing you know, Mr. Paine, everyone is on the streets without a job, lots of artists are suing you and when that happens I’ll be enjoying a nice tan in FUCKING AUSTRALIA!”

Debbie stepped back. Through the years she’d seen Lou doing terrible things, but she’d never, ever, seen her scream.

“Don’t worry about any of that, beautiful.” Claude replied as if it was nothing, as if the desperation in Lou’s voice was music to his ears. “I’ll fill your shoes til we find someone else. Everything you know came from my dad, right? Well, it’s in my DNA, so chill, things will be fine around here.” He blinked at her. Lou was two seconds away of grabbing his neck and twisting it with her own bare hands. Debbie could tell, she felt the same way. The image of Claude swallowing Lou’s rings and choking on them and then dying filled her brain, and she loved it.

“That’s not going to happen.” Lou said, suddenly too calm and visibly too certain that things would work out.

“Ms. Miller” the lawyer intervened again “I did not even sleep this night trying to find a way out of this. Trust me, there’s no way. If we could do anything to help, we would.” Unlike Claude, he sounded serious and worried. Debbie was grateful for someone reasonable in that room.

“No, what I’m saying is: that _can’t_ happen.” Lou breathed slowly, her expression calmer than before but her hands still closed in a fist. Suddenly, a weird smile appeared in her lips and Debbie wondered if all of this wasn’t just a prank, a silly joke to caught her. “Legally. That can’t happen because I’m getting married.”

“Excuse me?” Claude asked.

Mr. Paine’s mouth formed an “O”, but he said nothing.

“Who the hell would be insane enough to marry you?” Claude asked again. Seriously, that man was unbearable.

Debbie made an extra effort to ignore Claude Becker, something she was already used to, and began to think to herself which one of the 4 girls Lou went on a date in the last 6 months could be the one that stayed. Lou was great in lots of things, but Debbie knew dating wasn’t one of them. Debbie was always the one to choose the place for her to take her date, sometimes even having to write what Lou should say to the girl of the month. They never seemed to last, and Debbie knew better than ask to her boss whatever happened to them.

She looked at Lou trying to find an answer, and, for her surprise, Lou was looking right back at her.

“Her.” Lou pointed at Debbie, casually. “Deborah Ocean and I are getting married.”

Debbie’s eyes got wild, and then wilder, and then even wilder. She could feel her face turning red with all the eyes in the room looking at her, no idea what was going on, herself included. It felt like millions of years had passed when she finally opened her mouth, just to find herself saying in unison with Claude _fucking_ Becker:

_“What?!”_


End file.
